Noblemen of Evil
by Professor Specter
Summary: Undertaker knew it was going to be a good day. When was it not, given that his favorite earl was involved? He was looking forward to those greatest laughs he would give him.  Implied coffin action.  UndertakerxVincent


Noblemen of Evil

Just when one thinks the Undertaker couldn't lose any more of his marbles, suddenly, the grey haired male reveals himself to be a force to be reckoned with. And one hell of a bed maker himself. Phantomhive Hakushaku is in for a bit of a surprise, don't you think? One-shot, UndertakerxVincent Phantomhive.

* * *

Specter: Something like that. I need to hurry up and download that song is what it is. I wanted to write all that part down, but if something doesn't strike me quick it might end up going without, only to be seen in type-print. This has nothing to do with anything of what this is about. AND! By the looks of it, though I haven't checked recently, I am the first for this pairing. Go me.  
Undertaker: Hee hee hee~! Professor-san is sure full of entertainment first thing in the afternoon.  
Specter: And you! Stop giving me strange dreams involving me sewing parts of my lip together.  
Vincent: He gives you dreams like that? *Head tilt.* That's rather peculiar.  
Undertaker: *Drooling, swaying in laughter.*  
Specter: Fuuch yooooooooooou! [Although, YES! I just cosplayed Undertaker at Otakon 2010. Didja catch me?] Vincent is about 19-20 years old in this. About? Does that seem right? He hasn't met Rachel yet, but he is of age. Yana Toboso's 'Kuroshitsuji' is owned by her. Not me. So don't try to sue me for it, I've already disclaimed it. *Presses 'play fanficiton' button.*

... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ..._If you could see it like I do... ... ... ... ... ...  
__... ... ... ... ... ... ... ...That dark promise... ... ... ... ... ..._  
_... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ...within... ... ... ... ... ... ..._

Aaaahhh~ so the Phantomhive Hakushaku had come to see him again~ it had been a while. He had a particular way about him that could set him into a fit of giggles just thinking about it. The bell overhead the door rang out in a short jingle as the tall male entered, his raven bangs dusting into his soft brown eyes as they always did, a slight, warm smile on his mature features. The mortician could not help but chortle in mirth. He had a feeling today was going to be good...

"Hee, hee, hee...! Phantomhive Hakushaku~ how good to see you again~" Out of the gloom of his shop, Undertaker ghosted from behind the counter, cookie jar in one arm, biscuit in the other hand as he neared the nobleman standing in the door. The newly instated earl closed the door behind him and chuckled softly at the creepy male's antics as usual.

"When you say it like that, it kind of sounds like you missed me," the noble chuckled. "I'm not so sure if I should be complimented by that or a bit worried." He accepted the mortician's offered goodie jar and extracted a cookie, munching on it-dignity intact, and all the mannerism expected of one of his rank-as the shop owner ushered him further in to have a seat.

"Gufu, well I did, you see~" The grey haired male sidled back over to his counter and rested his head on his hands, elbows propped on the dusty wood surface. "After Father Phantomhive's grand final party from a few months ago, my young lord stayed a stranger, hee, hee...!" A bone shaped biscuit snapped in half between his long black nailed fingers and grinning teeth, water for tea heating up in the back area. The raven haired Phantomhive nodded slowly, his smile still soft upon his features.

He had often come to visit the strange man with his father on a few occasions, always being fascinated with what the late Earl Phantomhive did in his work, and always wanting to meet his acquaintances. None were like the Undertaker, so truly out of the norm that it left one taking two steps back and tilt their head to try and figure him out. To this day, he couldn't really say he had him pegged to the T, but he did know what the mortician did in terms of his relationship to his family's name, and what he liked.

Since his father's untimely and sudden death, he had been instated as the new Earl Phantomhive, and had been put to work pot-haste in filling his father's position. It had left him no spare time to do almost any of the things he enjoyed anymore, going anywhere outside the manor for casual outings most definitely included. He was quite certain he wasn't supposed to be out even now, but that hadn't stopped him from slipping out. He just needed a lightning bolt of crazy at the moment. Something to shake out the stiffness of sitting in the tall leather-back chair in his office and reading over papers after papers...

Chibi Tanaka had assisted his "escape".

"Things have been busy, of course," the young male tilted his head slightly, beaming. "I would've come sooner if I could, you know. I've always liked coming with Father to see you." He accepted the beaker of tea, recognizing the fragrance to be Jackson's Grey.

"Ohhhh~?" Long black nails tangled in the Undertaker's grey bangs as he grinned widely at the raven haired. As hard as the late Phantomhive Hakushaku could make him laugh, he had great expectations from the young man that he could one-up him. Something in his personality.

"Of course. You're very likeable." The mortician watched the Phantomhive Hakushaku take a sip of the tea with his giggly expression, wolfing down another cookie. "Your laugh is addictive, too."

"Gehee hee! You're too kind, my young lord Hakushaku."

"Hahaha, you don't have to stand on ceremony for my sake now that I'm not just the heir anymore, Undertaker," the raven haired man chuckled.

"Gufu fu fu fu... Vincent Hakushaku, then." The other nodded in agreement. They passed their time entertaining one another with stories of their work, some of the mishaps Vincent had on his tutelage in becoming a model noble worthy of his status, some of the very special "guests" the mortician had received in his shop since the late Hakushaku's death. When the young earl mentioned his mother's habit of perusing through her husband's clothes to see if anything would fit her son, the Undertaker snapped his fingers, remembering something.

"I have something for you, Vincent Hakushaku, hee, hee...! Wait right here a moment~!" If he had wanted to raise protest-perhaps for being left alone in the main part of his shop, gloomy, dark, and filled with numerous occult items that may or may not have been toxic-he would've been too slow as the creepy man dashed out into the back of the shop, grey hair whipping behind him. There was a thundering of heavy boots on steps that faded as the shop owner descended downstairs, leaving the space deathly-haha, pun both not and purposefully intended-quiet after a moment. Vincent sipped at the rest of his tea and helped himself to another bone shaped biscuit, slipping back into the habit of staring around the shop as he would do when he was younger.

For the most part, if memory served, things looked exactly the same, down to the last cobweb netting vials of strange colored liquids together next to a melted down stub of a candle.

"Well, he's the one living with it..." As he came back to have a seat and wait for Undertaker's return, he noticed something on the sides of the coffin. Upon closer inspection, it turned out to be engraved words, carved in a scrawling and curly, but legible print that went all along the border of the lid, spelling out one sentence:

_'The customized coffin for my very own Vincent Phantomhive Hakushaku.'_

And for some reason, that made the male chuckle. His fingers ran over the smoothed and finished wood, feeling the engraved words beneath his touch, before checking behind him to see if the Undertaker was on his way back. Maybe he was getting lost in his own basement; he really wouldn't actually doubt it, even without knowing the level of the mortician's sense of direction. Assured he was still by his lonesome in the main shop, he pried his fingers under the lid's carved lip and pulled it up with a loud creak. He quickly slid the top off to quiet the sound, making sure not to drop the lid to the ground and make another disturbance.

The inside of the casket was lined in plush blue velvet, and had a slight rise near the head, as if to make a bit of a pillow. It looked and felt-as he pressed a hand into the material to affirm it-very comfortable, but it amused him that such detail and comfort would be put into something that the one who would lie inside of it would never feel. He absently moved his hands over the back and the sides, before deciding to go ahead and lay inside of it, now, while he could in fact appreciate its comforts. After all, it was his anyway, wasn't it? According to Undertaker's inscription. With as much grace and swiftness as he could manage for the situation, still trying to remain unheard, he lifted a leg inside and shifted about, keeping his weight balanced with one hand one each side of the casket, before he was sitting down inside. Then, scooting his feet forward some so he wouldn't crack his head on the back, he laid down.

And had to fight not to yawn and close his eyes. It was that comfortable. He shouldn't have been surprised. Undertaker was the master of his craft after all.

All the same, he did bring his fingers up to rest over his chest, interlocking fingers, and moved his head a little for the best support on the rise in the plush. So this is how it would be after he passed on. Dolled up to the creepy gray haired male's expectations, arranged just so to ensure the best eternal slumber, and who knows what else would be added inside to fill the space of the coffin. His father's had been filled with magnolias. He sighed, thinking maybe he'd ask the mortician what he had in store for him.

"Hee, hee, hee...!"

"AH...!" Vincent jolted, grasping the edges of the coffin and nearly sat up smack into the brim of Undertaker's hat. Why hadn't he heard him coming back? He'd made such a racket dashing off. "Don't do that!" he hissed, trying to get a hold of his breathing rate and tamp down his heart rate. A line of drool seemed to be threatening to drip down the mortician's chin, two thick locks of his grey hair and his braid slipping over his shoulder and onto the young Hakushaku's collarbone. Vincent arched a brow, but couldn't raise a hand to push Undertaker's face away-and remove the impeding threat of being drooled on-staring at his bangs where he guessed eyes would be.

If it weren't for that occasional pair of bright green circles that appeared every now and then, he's dare suspect the mortician actually didn't have eyes [and that would explain everything. What?].

"Gufu fu... how does it feel, Vincent Hakushaku~?" The Undertaker completely avoided the other's exclaim from before, instead admiring the way the young earl looked so at home in his specialized coffin just for him. The blues gave his pale skin a hint of a white glow, but under sunlight back in the world of the mourners-to-be, he could tell it would be even more distinct. It was the right height as well, leaving him the appropriate cushion space to flood with his accentuating flower of choice. And he found himself growing steadily more entertained by the almost vulnerable expression on Vincent's face as he lay there-now a bit relaxed once more-in his handiwork.

"Oh, ah..." the young earl started, once more running his hands over the velvet. "It's comfortable, actually. Only you would spare so much attention to detail for your guests who will show no sign of enjoying its refined pleasures one way or another." He bit back a surprised noise when the mortician suddenly leaned his face even closer, his bangs dusting over the young Hakushaku's cheek.

"You are enjoying it, neee~? Gehee, hee..." Someone was getting just a little bit too excited. That or oddly becoming serious. The latter seemed more out of place. "And I can think of a way for you to best show your appreciation to the forethought and care put into the bed~ ehee, of your grand final party." There was too much of a suggestive emphasis on the word bed in his statement.

"...That wouldn't happen to involve... me staying in here..." He never counted himself claustrophobic, so maybe it was more of Undertaker's overwhelming dark figure that came with the long sleeves and full length clothes he wore that served to make him feel trapped. The way the grey haired male was leaning over him, those long tresses almost making a curtain around him, was beginning to make him rather warm in places he was sure shouldn't be feeling it right at the moment. "Would it?" He must've been blushing; the Undertaker was grinning even wider now.

"Oh no~ Vincent Hakushaku..." Before the raven haired could stop him, the mortician stepped into the coffin over top of him, one of his legs between his and his boots nudging his feet and lower legs apart. "It does, gufu!" The Undertaker's left hand reached back like a contortionist's and hooked his nails into the lip of the lid, pulling it back up over the sides of the coffin to bring it closed over them.

"Oh hell... O-oi, Undertaker..." As the dim light from the shop began to be blocked off as the lid was lowered shut, Vincent could have sword he saw a gleam of bright green beneath silvery bangs. A sliver of the mortician's eye. Instantly, as the lid fell shut with a small clunk, his already wavering resistance melted away into nothing.

~/~/~/~/~/~/~/

"Hee, hee, hee, you're still a bit disheveled there, Vincent Hakushaku, m-hm~!" The Undertaker's pale hands brushed the nobleman off as best he could, picking at long, silver threads that had clung to him here and there over his waistcoat. "But don't worry; I know what'll help for it, gufu!" The raven haired male looked almost disoriented, a smile on his face that was warm and soft as his usual one, but eyes that seemed a bit unfocused as if he'd been exposed to just too much of too many things all at once. He blinked with a slight tilt of his head, and followed the movements of Undertaker as he came back with something clasped in his hand.

It was his father's sapphire ring, the symbol of the head of the Phantomhive family. The cold, pale hands of the mortician grasped the left hand of the young Hakushaku's and slipped it over his middle finger.

"Gufu fu fu, it's as if I'm getting married to my young Vincent Hakushaku~!" Undertaker clasped his hands together while the raven haired noble held up his hand and looked at the ring.

"Ahaha, married, yes, it is similar," he laughed light-heartedly.

"Now when you return nobody will be suspicious of your outing, m-hm~..." [read: suspicious of your disheveled state.] He gave Vincent a wrapped box of some of his bone shaped cookies-"Gufu, share with Tanaka-chibi, okay~?"-and held the door open for him in a gracious flourish. "Now be sure to come back again soon, Vincent Hakushaku~ hee, hee...!"

"Of course, thank you, Undertaker-sama." The mortician waved goodbye, long sleeve flapping as the earl took his leave. He closed the door once he was on his way, the little bell jingling once again. Still giggling with another line of drool running over his lip already, he sauntered over to where the Phantomhive's custom coffin lay, reaffixing the lid onto it. After he closed up shop for the evening, then he'd get around to putting in a new, untarnished lining. In the evening, when he'd have all the time in the world to recreate the actions that caused each blemish on the velvet in his mind.

He cackled, snapping a bone biscuit in half. He knew today was going to be good.

... ... ... ... ... ..._saaaa~... ... ... ... ... ... ... ...  
__... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ...and that's... ... ... ...  
__... ... ... ... ... ... ...the end... ... ... ... ... ..._

Specter: Yeeeaaaaaaaaaaah, originally, I was going to write the happenings in the coffin, but see~ I was writing this at work. It wouldn't have been worksafe. [Although considering I wrote as much as I did, maybe it wouldn't have made a difference?] But~ seeing as how I now have it on Yoshimaru at home, if I feel so inclined—and trust me, I will one day—I'll come back and change the rating and fill in the juicy coffin bit. Not like you don't know what happened.  
Vincent: What happened? *Head tilt.*  
Specter: Stop being so damn sexxxily cute like that. *Drip of nosebleed.* Damn.  
Undertaker: *Slumped over his counter, hat fallen off, drooling and spasming.* Nhheyyhhehhyeyhhh~  
Vincent: Undertaker-sama?  
Undertaker: I have seen utopia~  
Specter: *Snort.* Reviews have much love and will earn bone cookies.


End file.
